


queen of the castle

by aerobreaking



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-17 04:53:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3516035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerobreaking/pseuds/aerobreaking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lying is easy. Telling the truth, they will both come to learn, not so much. (Alfred, Anya, and the process of falling in love in the most unconventional of ways.) americaxfem!russia</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. infidelity

**Author's Note:**

> i'm gonna try to write a multi-fic. it's gonna be short and sweet. about five chapters 500 to 1000 words each chapter, i'll try to update quickly. enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not everything is what it appears to be

Anya rolls of Alfred with a satisfied sigh and for long minutes the only sound is their choppy, irregular breathing. When her heart has gone down to stable rate she reaches over to the night stand and grabs a cigarette and the lighter.

“You want one?” She asks her companion, as she lights it.

“We can share.” He says, with a slightly bitter tone.

“Okay,” Anya says, inhaling deeply and passing it over to him. He takes a moment, Alfred doesn’t usually smoke—his wife doesn’t like it. After a beat or two he presses the cigarette between his lips and slowly inhales, tentatively.

“Where’s your wife?” She asks, because she’s curious to know if he actually keeps up with her.

“I dunno,” He answers, “Somewhere in New York, I think. Haven’t talked to her since…last week. And your husband?” He counters as he hands her back the cigarette.

“Sidney.” She makes a pause, if only to make him more uncomfortable. “Fucking your wife into a mattress. Probably.” She hears him choke on his breath. Ahh, such a sensitive thing he was.“Wanna see pictures? I had Toris follow them.”

She makes a gesture in the general direction of her laptop, it’s somewhere on the floor, she had dropped it when he had forcefully shoved her against the wall. He’d been harsher today, harsher than usual. And plenty harsher than he was with his wife. He’d told her once that he was afraid of hurting her. But Anya was fair game. She could stand the bruises and the scratches and the force of his thrusts. She was not a china doll.

“No.” He says, “I don’t.” He turns away from her, closing himself off.

Alfred didn’t deserve this. She knows that, _he_ knows that. It’s always sad to see people loosing their hope in love. Anya had never experienced it, loosing hope. She’d never had any to begin with. But Alfred believed in it and while she wanted to crush that belief, she also wanted to so desperately preserve it. He was a sweet kid, not well versed in what he had married into, but sweet nonetheless.

Anya doesn’t offer the cigarette to him anymore.

What they had going on wasn’t love. It’s not revenge either. It’s more like…stress relief. Well, at least to her that’s what it was. She’s not entirely sure what Alfred thinks it is.

She exhales, the smoke making its way out of her mouth and disappearing into the air. “You know,” She begins, quietly, and not expecting him to pay attention, “If you’d like, I can make them stop seeing each other.”

“NO.” He raises his voice, “I don’t need you to babysit my marriage.” 

“Right.” Anya says, rolling her eyes, “It was just a suggestion. Maybe that way you won’t cry yourself to sleep anymore.” She says the last sentence in a whisper, almost inaudibly. But he hears her. He quickly rises from the bed, picking up his suit from the floor with extreme urgency. He dresses and picks up his suitcase, as he’s walking out he runs a hand through his hair and says, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He’s out the door before Anya can answer him.

He leaves behind him a dying person. Her heart beats, once, twice, and then a flutter; something very strange and very out of place. She smiles mournfully into the dark room.

“Fuck.” She says, her voice ringing in her ears, “There goes the hope.”


	2. the fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things begin to change.

“We should stop seeing each other,” Alfred says on one of their regular meetings. He’s still inside her and he’s looking down at her through pleasure filled eyes. 

She doesn’t miss a beat, “If that’s what you want.”

His brows come together in a slight frown, “That’s all?”

“Yes,” She says, lacing her fingers behind his neck and she pulls him down to give his slightly plum lips a chaste kiss. “That’s all.”

And that’s how their five month affair ends. It’s quick and easy and effortless. Very convenient.

She doesn’t seen him for months after that. She’s too busy and she doesn’t make time for things that don’t benefit her. (It’s the only thing she had learned from her father.)

Her husband, sly bastard that he was, learns of the affair a couple of days after it ends. He doesn’t seem particularly hurt, it hasn’t been the first case of infidelity in their ten years of marriage. For him, it’s always been that _one_ woman. Always her and never any others, he was loyal like that.

“Why don’t you invite him to dinner?” He asks her one day while they’re driving home from a meeting.  

Anya lights a cigarette, “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“The blond boy,” He says, smiling slightly, his eyes dark and mocking.

“I don’t keep toys longer than a year. Don’t you know that by now?”

“Mmm,” He hums, turning his gaze to the blurring buildings outside. “I liked him.”

Anya doesn’t answer him. She keeps quiet for the sake of Alfred’s marriage (but mostly his pride). _Stop meeting her_ , she wants to say, _stop hurting him_. Her husband will do it if she asks, he had told her the day before their engagement ceremony, _I won’t see her again, if it displeases you_.

She exhales slowly. If only she had had the feeling of displeasure. Maybe things would have been different then. Maybe that woman would have seriously fallen in love with Alfred and he would have been happy. And her husband would be the one that was miserable.

But who was she to know that her husbands lover would pick a husband that was utterly and devotedly in love with her. They had only recently married, if anything, it was Alfred’s fault.

Didn’t he see it when he met her? How stupidly in love that girl was with her childhood friend despite him being married? Didn’t he see all the signs that were there, clear as daylight? 

Alfred was blinder than she thought.

Or maybe he was just hoping to win her over once their names were bound together by a sheet of paper that was nothing more than wasted ink.

Whatever the case. He was suffering now and she had nothing to do with it.

* * *

 

She is sitting in her study one late May day when her husband comes barging in, uncharacteristically livid. He stands before her, two bright spots of angers coloring his cheeks, and the evidence being crushed in his hand. 

She looks up at him, tilting her head, “Is there a particular reason why you didn’t knock?”

 “What’s this?” He asks, raising the paper.

“A paper,” She says smartly, returning her attention to the papers scrambled across her desk.

“ _Anya_ ,” He hisses through gritted teeth, “This is not acceptable.”

She takes in a deep sigh, annoyed by his hypocrisy.

“Look,” She begins her tone firm and final, “I’m twenty eight, I need an heir. You’re obviously not going to cooperate, seeing as we haven’t slept in the same room in eight years. This opportunity has presented itself to me and I have graciously taken it.”

“What about my heir? What about _my_ company?” 

“ _Your_ company is _yours_ do with it as you see fit. But _my_ company needs an heir.”

“This is not what your father and I agreed on.”

“My father is at the cemetery if you’d like to take this up with him. I am not my father and whatever you and him agreed on is none of my concern.”

“This _marriage_ is what we agreed on.”

“Yes,” She says, her gaze turning harder than it already was. “That wasn’t my concern either.”

“Anna,” He says, his composure changing dramatically. “I want a divorce.”

“And a divorce you shall have, _Yao_.”

* * *

Alfred sees it on the newspapers. Every news paper in town’s headline reads the same. He sees her face everywhere, her amethyst eyes cold and distant and so very lonely, the line of her jaw firmly set, and her platinum blonde hair is shorter than it had been when he had last seen her.

Bile burns in the back of his throat. His hands tremble slightly and he almost jumps when his wife looks over his shoulder at what he is reading.

“Oh my,” She says, her voice lacking any concrete emotion, “The cities two most powerful people are divorcing. What a shame.”

“Yeah…” He whispers, his mind coming to a terrible conclusion.

He didn’t have a buffer anymore. Yao was going to be single and unmarried, he turns his gaze down to his wife, she smiles faintly at him, he didn’t have anything holding him back anymore.

“You okay?” She asks.

No. He’s not okay. He will never be okay ever again.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just look a bit…strange.”

He laughs, loud and obnoxious, “You worry too much, Sakura.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...did you guys like it?
> 
> also, yes. i like chinaxfem!japan. not a very popular pairing but...eh, i like it.


	3. opalescent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> breakthrough.

Anya fell in love once. She was fifteen, still bright-eyed, and she still had a small hold on her freedom. He was unremarkable and easily forgettable, but Anya was head over heals in love with him. She doesn’t remember his name anymore; to be honest, she doesn’t even remember his face. She could walk past him on the street and she wouldn’t be able to tell you, _yes, I loved him once_.

Of course her father didn’t approve. That was a given, her father didn’t approve of anything she did. But Anya had given that person all of her, in those few months that that untamable feeling took over her being, she gave it all. She gave and gave and gave until there was nothing left to give.

And he had broken her heart. He blew it to tiny, jagged pieces. (Another reason why she had had forgotten about him.) Looking back on it now, she supposes that it had been for the best. That boy, and every single one that followed him, had been reminders that love was not for her.

And that was okay. 

* * *

 

Despite everything, her marriage with Yao ends on a positive note. He has no legitimate reasons to be angry and she doesn’t want to loose a friend. So their divorce is simple and clean. _My things are mine and your things are yours_. They remain business partners, it would do no one any good if they decided to be at each others throats for the rest of their lives.

They both leave the house they had lived in. He goes moves into a condominium in the city center and she moves to a relatively humble home just outside the bustling metropolis. It’s just a thirty minute drive from her office and quiet.

On a sunny June morning, Alfred pays her a visit.

It’s very strange and unexpected, she had honestly been surprised. He had stood outside her doorway with a hesitant smile, his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet. He had incredibly looked boyish and nervous, she has no memory of him every looking like that in all the times they had previously met.

But she supposes, as she let him in, that they didn’t have that type of relationship.

“What brings you here?” She asks, glad she had decided to wear an oversized T-shirt. It would do her no good if Alfred found out about her pregnancy. He would start to wonder; she didn’t need him to wonder.

“I just wanted to know how you were.” He replies, taking a seat on one of her couches and taking his time looking around her living room. His gaze lands on the only picture she has on display. One of her two sisters and her, smiling freely. He looks at the picture for a long time, so long that the silence becomes irritatingly awkward. She sits as well, opposite from him, her glass coffee table separating them.

“I’m doing good.” She finally says, if only to break the silence. “And yourself?”

He snaps back his attention to her and smiles sheepishly, “I’m doing great! Just last week I made my official debut as vice-president. Awesome, right?” He looks around, as if searching for something, “Hey, you have any cigarettes?”

“I quit,” Anya responds.

“ _Really_?” He asks, incredulously.

“Yes, really.” She doesn’t elaborate. He catches on quickly and changes the subject.

His posture changes, he no longer looks nervous or boyish, instead he looks defeated. His shoulders fall and his voice trembles when he speaks, “Sakura’s not home.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that. After the divorce, she is now nothing more than a side character in the whole ordeal. She no longer has the right to get involved. At least, that’s what she’d so desperately like to believe.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“I’m sorry too.” He mutters, and adds, “Why did you have to divorce him?”

Anya doesn’t respond. There are too many reasons to count but none that could satisfy Alfred’s betrayed heart. He stands and makes his way around the coffee table, he sits, and in a totally selfish act of intimacy he lays his head on her lap. She can’t help tensing, he’s too close and he’s just _toomuchtoomuch_.

“If I asked you to sleep with me, would you?” He asks.

Anya doesn’t think Alfred knows what kind of effect he has on her. She hopes he never realizes it, it would be her downfall. Things between them had started with turbulence, both seeking comfort and distraction. She detested him at first, he was cocky and rude and stupidly blind to his wife’s infidelity. Anya had done everything she could to break that attitude of his. She’d given him pictures and all the proof in the world. Yet he didn’t confront Sakura about it, instead he had crushed their lips together and didn’t let go until the iridescent lights of the morning peeked through the hotel windows. That was a funny habit of his, he didn’t touch her unless the room was bathed in darkness, he didn’t so much as look her way if the room was illuminated.

She answers him a bit to late and her eyes fill with tears she will never allow herself to spill, her voice almost cracks, but she answers nonetheless, as firmly as she can, “No.”

He turns his head to look at her, the blues of his eyes more defined than usual, and then a spark. It is terrifying and horrifying and _liberating_.

Recognition.


	4. uncertainty principle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the evolution of a complex system cannot be accurately predicted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for all the grammatical mistakes in this. it's late and i'm listening to the interstellar soundtrack as i slowly loose my mind to my astronomy book.

The birth is…complicated.

She’s loosing a lot of blood, her baby boy is almost out, but there are two babies. At the rate things are going, she might not make it.

Natalya and Yekaterina each hold one of her hands, she’s pretty sure they can’t feel their fingers anymore. But they refused to leave her alone. She remembers, while the pain causes black dots to appear in her vision, the day she told them she was pregnant. They had looked her with shock and slight disbelief, but after the initial surprise they had been ecstatic. She hadn’t told them anything about the father, but they didn’t seem to care about that minor detail.

Katyusha uses her free hand to brush away the hair that is stuck to her forehead. She leans down to whisper in her ear.

“ _Listen to me_ ,” She says in their native tongue, as the black spots claim more of her sight, “ _You are standing in a river. The river is flowing with crystal blue water, slowly, you see it bleed to red. You are scared, I know. But look around you, in one side, there is peace and quiet. Every fiber in your being urges you to go to that side. But wait! Look to the other side, you see the chaos that is going on there? Do you see Natalya’s crying face? Do you see me? Do you see the faces of Alyosha and Nastya? They’re here, Anya, with us. You can’t just leave them—all of us behind. If you ever want to see your children again, you must push. You must wade through that bloody water to us. Push. Anya. You have. to. push._ ”

And she does. She screams and she pushes and cries until she can’t feel the tips of her fingers.

* * *

 

Matthew is the unexpected variable. He is “the uncertainty principle”.

She had know Alfred had a brother, he had mentioned it in passing a few times, what she didn’t know, was that he was a kindergarten teacher. What she didn’t know, was that after five years of keeping them hidden they would have their uncle as they’re teacher. She’s standing in the middle of his classroom, her babies hiding behind her skirt and he’s looking at her with stricken shock.

He takes one look at them and he _knows_.

He knows. He knows. He knows.

Because try as she might, she cannot hide the blues of their eyes or the structure of their tiny faces. Anyone else, and they might have overlook these things, but not Matthew, not he, who looked at these features every single morning when he woke up.

He kneels down to their level, ignoring her.

He manages to make his voice sound steady and comforting, “Hello! What are your names?”

Alyosha answers first, “ALEXEI!”

Matthew extends out his hand, “Nice to meet you. And you?” He looks at her little girl, who cheeks have turned positively red, she murmurs weakly, “Anastasia.”

“What a pretty name!” Matthew says, “Do you have any nicknames?”

At this she looks up at Anya, she gives her daughter a small, encouraging smile. Her daughter is delighted at her approval and turns to the teacher, “Nastya!”

“And I’m Alyosha,” Her boy adds. Not needing to be asked. “Come on Nastya! Lets go play.” With that he takes his sisters hand and they leave her alone with a tight situation on her hands.

Matthew stands ands says, quietly, “It’s almost like looking into the past.”

Anya doesn’t say anything, she’s trying to calculate every possible outcome of this conversation. Nothing is looking as promising as she would like.

“Does he…know?”

“No.” She answers sharply, “He can never know.”

Matthew doesn’t say anything. And it’s strangely relaxing to know that Matthew isn’t at all like his brother. She immediately understood that the moment he didn’t pull out his phone and call Alfred right on the spot.

“He deserves to know.” And that is the last thing he says to her that day. He never pushes the subject again, however he doesn’t have to.

One Saturday morning, while she is making breakfast; there is a knock at her door. The knocks are sharp and she hears muffled arguing. She opens the door, and a blond woman’s face stares back at her, her eyes menacing and her cheeks red with anger. Behind her stands Matthew and another man she has never seen in her life.

The woman, Alice she will later come to learn, says with the most irritated voice, “I’m here to see my grandbabies.”

* * *

 

Alice hates her. Not because she could be potentially ruining her son’s marriage, but because she had kept her grandchildren secret from her. As all grandmothers tend to do, she immediately falls in love with Alexei and Anastasia. And they fall back in love with her.

Francis, too, does not go five minutes without snapping a picture or fifty two. It’s strange to watch as they loose their minds to two five year olds but she can’t exactly blame them. It’s as though they’re trying to make up for all the time they lost. And the twenty four hours in the day are just not enough.

It is a Friday night, and they’re in her living room, playing twister, while she cooks dinner, when Alice finally comes talk to her.

“Do you need any help?” She asks, and Anya briefly remembers Francis telling her not never ever let Alice loose on the kitchen.

“No,” She says, nervously, “I’m almost done.”

She isn’t lying, but she feels Alice’s green eyes burn holes on the back of her neck.

"How did you meet?” She asks, Anya doesn’t want to tell her, but she owes her that much.

“We met at his wedding. My ex-husband and I attended because we are business partners with the Hondas. But also because my ex-husband and the bride were childhood friends.”

“Is that so…” Alice says and as if talking to herself she begins, “You know, your sister tells me you had a hard pregnancy and delivery. I did too. I was constantly tired and for the first three months I could not keep anything down. I was always calling Francis out of work because I would get nervous and overly emotional. And Francis was always there, I would always say he didn’t understand and that I didn’t need him, but I would not have known what to do with myself if he hadn’t been there.” She comes up to stand right in front of her. “I am so angry with you. I have no reason to keep these children from Alfred, I should just call him over right now and let him see for himself.”

Alice is almost a head shorter than her, and she has to crane her neck back to be able to look at her in the eyes, she raises her hand, as if she was going to slap her, and Anya clenches her eyes shut, waiting for the impact. But it never comes, instead Alice tentatively touches her cheek, “You did good.”

And Anya doesn’t understand why those words make her tear up. Alice continues, “I know why you did what you did.” A strained, choked laugh leaves Alice’s throat, “Bloody hell, if I were in the situation you were, I would have done the same thing.” She pats Anya’s head like a child and Anya feels tears dripping down her cheeks. She hasn’t cried in years but Alice seems to take these kinds of with ease. She doesn’t say anything as Anya silently cries for herself for the pain she has endured since her mother died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the scene where kat talks about the two sides was inspired by vikings. i dunno if any of you watch that series and will be able to make the connection. by the way, thanks for all the kudos, they mean a lot to me, and a special thanks to rayblaze for your feedback. i will try to make my chapters a little longer, haha. only because i'm getting more and more ideas for this story...


	5. event horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fate deals anya a bad hand

Alfred finds about the kids at a bad time, and a bad place. 

 On a Friday morning, at approximately five, she is overrun by a white van. She is making her way to work, crossing the intersection while the light is green, when she feels the impact that makes the air rush out of her lungs and she instantly blacks out. 

* * *

Natalya receives the call first. It’s from Toris and he’s frantic and talking in fast tones and she can barely make out the details from his sobbing voice. She feels her heart stop. Because this situation is entirely too familiar. She grabs the counter to balance herself, her legs feel as though they’re about to give under her. 

 She only comes back to her senses when she feels Nastya pulling at her dress, “Why are you crying? Does it hurt?”

 Natalya hangs up the phone, not bothering to let Toris finish talking. She wipes away her tears, kneeling down to look at her niece in the eyes, “No. Nothing hurts. Listen, why don’t you wake up your brother and I’ll take you to…to…”She can’t come up with anyone so she goes with the first thing that comes to mind, “To Alice’s house.”

 “Really?!” The five-year old asks, excitement filling her eyes. 

 “Yes.”

 The girl takes off, and Natalya gets to calling her older sister. Even before Yekaterina picks up, Natalya knows it’s going to be a real challenge to get her to calm down. She goes up to the kids rooms, grabbing a backpack and shoving in clothes, shoes, toys, and anything she can get her hands on.

Katyusha picks up in the seventh ring. Her voice is groggy and disoriented. Natalya takes a deep breath, explaining everything that she had understood from Toris, and her sister becomes hysterical. It makes her want to cry too, but not right now. Not now, she has things to do. The twins are with her, she can’t _will not_ worry them.

 After she’s managed to get her sister to a somewhat calm state she instructs her to go to the hospital, “I’ll meet you there.”

 “What about the twins?”

 “I’m…going to take them to Alice. I…don’t know who else.”

 They say their goodbyes, and just as she hangs up Nastya comes into the room, pulling her half conscious brother behind her. 

 “We’re ready!” She announces, despite the fact that they’re both still in their pajamas and haven’t brushed their teeth. But Natalya doesn’t quite register these facts and just pulls them out to the car and straps them in their booster seats. Her hands tremble while she tries to get the belts clicked together, and she slowly feels a dread rise up her back. 

 It’s only after they’re parked in Alice’s and Francis’ driveway that Natalya’s brain finally catches up with her. This was a risky situation. 

 Very, very risky. 

 Anya had no problems with the Bonnefoy’s coming to her house to see the twins, but she absolutely refused to let them go to their house. She clenches her hands around the steering wheel, _what should I do?_ She sneaks a glance at the twins through the rearview mirror and she can see the excitement on their pretty faces. 

 “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” She says, as she slips off her seat belt and gets out of the car.

 Gathering all the courage she has, and dispelling all the thoughts of Anya’s anger from her mind (she’d deal with it later), she makes her way up the walkway. She rings the doorbell before she has a chance to second guess her self. 

 She stands in the porch for two grueling minutes before someone opens the door. It’s Francis, and he looks throughly confused. Her being the last person he expected. 

 She doesn’t give him a chance to talk, “My sister is in the hospital. Accident. I—the—twins. There’s no one to watch them.” While she’s talking Alice comes up behind Francis, “Can you—can you watch them? Please.”

 He doesn’t answer her as he shoves past her. Alice looks at her worriedly, “Of course we’ll watch them. Do you know what happened?”

 “Some guy ran a red light. I don’t—she might not make it. Toris called. I’m going over there now, Kat is on her way too. I have to go.”

 “Wait.” Alice stops her as she’s turning around, “Give me your number, keep me updated.”

 They trade cellphone numbers. Francis has already taken out the kids by the time she makes it back to her car, he’s carrying them both, and their tiny hands are buried in his hair. 

 “Be careful.” He says.

 She can do nothing but nod. 

 As she pulls out of the driveway she feels the dread that had been rising up her neck begin to pool at her stomach. She had a terrible feeling about this. 

* * *

When Alfred enters the house, he shouts out, “MOM! GUESS WHAT?”

 He hears something falling and breaking, a string of curses follows suit. He hurriedly makes his way to the kitchen, the wine he had bought for celebration in his right hand. When he rounds the corner to the kitchen he sees her looking at him with the most horror stricken face he has ever seen on her.

 It makes him worry, “What’s—

 “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” She shouts. 

 Her hostility makes him recoil, “No need to be _that_ surprised”

 “I—I thought you were—aren’t you supposed to be in London?”

 “My trip got cut short. I have awesome news!” He raises the wine bottle. “Sakura is—”

 Before he can finish his sentence he is interrupted by a new, tiny occupant entering the kitchen. 

 “Are you OK?!” A childish voice cuts through.

 There is a moment of absolute stillness as the boy turns his eyes toward him. Alfred feels a myriad of emotions rising up his skin. When the boy locks eyes with him, the blue of his eyes makes Alfred loose his breath.

 “WOAH! Mister, you look just like me!” He squeals. 

 “Alyosha!” Another voice makes it’s way into the conversation, “Don’t run!”

 The first thing he catches sight of is her long platinum blonde hair. And then—and then her eyes. 

 She pinks at the sight of him, her pale skin flushing without much provocation, she lets out a tiny squeak and hides behind the boy. 

 “Alfred listen—” He thinks he hears his mother start.

 But all the blood rushing through his ears make it impossible for him to make out what she’s saying. His vision blurs around the edges, the only thing his eyes see is the tiny children that are looking up at him, their brows pulled together in confusion.

 He doesn’t feel the bottle of wine slipping out of his fingers, he doesn’t hear it breaking, he doesn't smell the wine that’s spilt all over the floor. For long minutes he feels nothing.

 And then, two emotions become more pronounced than all the rest.

 Affection.

 And anger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, first let me say sorry this took so long. i wrote this chapter three times because i didn't know what route to take this fic in. and then I got in an accident and that took me off track. so yeah, anya's accident is partially reflecting that situation (i'm okay though just a few scratches. my poor car is ruined though.)
> 
> secondly, much thanks to the anon who dropped by to urge me to update.

**Author's Note:**

> feedback would be nice.


End file.
